Me: Have some great news to share. See u there.
Ryder: Have some news too. Be there soon.
Yep, it’s official. I hate parties. They have been spoiled for all time for me. I’m a paranoid, nervous wreck. I watch everyone around me expecting someone to drop a roofie into our drinks or for Marshall to pop out of nowhere and pick a fight. I can tell I’m irritating the shit out of Jayson by nagging him to death about how much he's drinking. I’ve kept him to one beer so far. I need to get a grip, but I feel like walls of writhing bodies are closing in on me and I can’t breathe. Curtis’s party is nothing like Fallon’s, but the need to get out of here before I completely lose it and have a full-blown panic attack claws away at me.
“Jayson, can we leave please?”
“Huh? Hold up, man,” he tells Curtis and looks down at me. “Why do you want to leave? We haven’t been here that long.”
“Can you take me home?” Someone knocks into me from behind and I hear a girl giggle “sorry” as she stumbles across the kitchen to grab another drink. “Seriously, Jayson. Can’t we please just go?”
“Ryder should be here in a bit and I’ll take you home once he gets here. I don’t want to spoil Julien’s night by making him leave now.”
“Fine. I’ll be outside.” Anything to get some fresh air.
Elijah is out of town with his parents so wasn’t at the game and isn’t here now. I understand that Jayson wants to make sure Ryder is here to drive Julien home since Julien is already halfway wasted. I don’t like it, but I understand. I just can’t take another second standing here, a feeling of unease creeping up my skin. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to be in a closed room with large groups anymore without feeling the need to escape and run away. I guess I’m not as over the events of Fallon’s party as I thought I was.
Someone else bumps into me. For fuck’s sake. Get me the hell out of this house. I find the nearest door that leads outside and burst through it, finding myself on the front porch. Humid air fills my lungs and I take a seat on the bench swing. I push my toe down and start the swing going.
“Hey kitten. Thought that was you.”
A large shadow created by the glow of the porch and yard lights glides across the side of the house as Fallon emerges from the darkness, a joint hanging from his mouth. He pinches the end off and throws it away before pocketing the remaining piece.
“Hey, Fallon.” Speak of the devil.
He hops up on the porch railing and climbs over to sit on top of it next to where I am on the bench swing. “You here alone?”
“No. Jayson and Julien are inside. I just needed a breather.”
He makes a “hmm” noise and stares at me in consideration. For what, I have no clue. I never know what to make of him. I see him all the time at the Fields and he and Ryder hang out some, or he’ll bring his car to Ryder’s dad’s shop. Every time I see him, he has at least two girls hanging off his arms. I guess I get why. He has an air of recklessness and danger about him that attracts girls to him like moths to a flame. His family is also filthy rich which I’m sure doesn’t hurt and works to his advantage. From what I gathered on how he handled the mess with Marshall after the fight, he must have a lot of influence for so many people to bend to his will. Which brings me to what I have been curious about.
“Fallon, if I asked you a question, would you answer it truthfully?”
He tilts his head and his dilated sapphire blue eyes, bloodshot from smoking his joint, flick across my face. “Depends.”
“Did you do anything to Marshall or those other guys to shut them up and not report Jayson? What's the deal you made with Samantha and Jacinda? I also noticed that Marshall wasn’t playing tonight. Know anything about that?” I might as well get all my questions out all at once for him.
His chuckle is raspy. “That’s three questions, Elizabeth,” he drawls out my name.
“Would you mind answering all three then?”
“Why do you want to know, little kitten?” he says, jumping off the porch railing and taking a seat beside me on the swing. The smell of marijuana is strong, and I scoot over to put more distance between us. Fallon has always been a wild enigma but right now I wonder if he is someone I should be wary of.
He leans his head back and rotates it toward me. “A secret for a secret.”
“What does that mean?”
“I will answer one of your questions for every secret you give me.”
“I don’t understand, Fallon. This isn’t a game. I have no secrets to tell.”
“First of all, everyone has secrets, kitten. Secondly, everything is a game. It just depends on how you play. And tonight, I want to play with you.” He reaches out and twirls a piece of my hair around his finger. I smack it away. He laughs. “Kitten has some claws, I see.”
“Stop calling me kitten, Fallon.”
“Make me, Elizabeth.”
I only wanted some answers to my questions – questions that none of the boys will answer. But something tells me this is not a game I want to play with Fallon.
